


Catch and Release

by house_of_lantis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt requested by Anon: Could you write Chris/Peter where they just keep running into each other everywhere, but Peter finds out about Allison and he assumes Chris is married, so he starts to avoid him and act weirdly.</p><p>Character piece exploring Peter Hale meeting Chris Argent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr: http://theserpentgirl.tumblr.com/post/96050554705/could-you-write-chris-peter-where-they-just-keep
> 
> Prompt requested by Anon: Could you write Chris/Peter where they just keep running into each other everywhere, but Peter finds out about Allison and he assumes Chris is married, so he starts to avoid him and act weirdly.

Peter didn’t make a habit of picking up strangers, least of all, in a sporting goods store. 

He didn’t really need to do very much as people were naturally drawn to him. His sister, Talia, often teased him that he was full of himself – he agreed; acknowledged his flaws and his vanities – but it was still a statement of truth.

If he wanted to play, there were a few well established gentlemen’s clubs in town where Peter could rely on the kind of discretion that only a certain type of person could afford. He was just elitist enough to appreciate that kind of social filtering. He was by no means virtuous; but he liked uncomplicated play mates and games that catered to his needs.

“Why am I spending my Saturday afternoon here with you?”

Derek tested the weight and balance of the fishing rod in his hands. “I need your lake house this weekend. Stiles wants to go fly fishing.”

 

Stiles Stilinski was Derek’s new boyfriend; Derek was definitely pulling out all the stops in order to impress the young man. This was something that Peter wholeheartedly supported once he met Derek’s new amour after they had been together for three months. The whole family liked Stiles – with his acerbic wit, twitchy limbs, and pretty face – because the young man brought out a rare, lighthearted side in his broody, sour-faced nephew.

“ _Stiles_  wants to go fly fishing,” Peter repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Does Stiles even know how to fly fish?”

“No.”

“Do you?”

Derek gave him a look and then ignored him, setting the fishing rod back on the display and then picking up another one.

“So it’s to be a  _romantic_ weekend getaway. How quaint,” he murmured, smirking. “Make sure that you burn my sheets and put in an order for a new mattress delivery. And wipe down every flat surface that you decide to  _interact_  on.”

“That is so none of your business, Peter.”

Peter chuckled and wandered away, stopping to look at the camping site display the next section over. Why on earth would someone need all of these accoutrements? Wouldn’t it be easier just to rent a cabin in the woods – or better yet, just find a three star resort tucked away somewhere private?

“It’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?”

Peter made a ‘hmmm’ noise in agreement. He turned to look at the man standing near him. “It just seems to defeat the purpose of going out into the woods and…”

Bright blue eyes met his in a handsome, tanned face. Peter blinked and grinned.  _Oh yes, this was a man that Peter wouldn’t mind playing games with._

“Only if you think that man should be free of their civilized shackles to be one with nature,” the man said, chuckling to himself.

“And do you wish to be free from your shackles?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “When I was a kid, our dad took us camping all the time. It drove our mom crazy because she hated it. She hated the bugs and the silence. But my sister and I loved it. We didn’t have all of this, but it didn’t matter because we knew how to have fun with whatever we could find.”

Peter smiled. “It sounds idyllic.”

“Probably more now in memory rather than in reality,” the man said, chuckling to himself.

“Well, I imagine that the experience is colored by the company,” Peter murmured, looking at him. “I’ve never been much of a—“

“Peter, let’s go, I’m done,” Derek said, holding two fishing rods and a pair of floppy green hats in his hands.

Peter wanted to growl; he turned and glared at Derek meaningfully.

“Nice talking to you. Excuse me,” the man said, walking off down the aisle.

Peter sighed, watching him go, cocking his head a bit to watch his ass and his long legs.  _Ah, well, easy come, easy go._

“Yes. Very nice.”

“Seriously?” Derek said, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t be so judgmental,” Peter said, laughing. “And besides, I would never be so crass as to try and pick up someone in a store like this.”

***

A few days later, Peter was sitting in his favorite independent coffee shop on Main Street, Café Reyes, sipping the special blend that the shop made just for him. He had shared his secret recipes with the proprietress, a shrewd young woman named Erica, which made her shop quite popular with the local college students, the hipsters, the coffeeholics, the deputies from the nearby Sheriff’s Department, and a small crowd of regulars like Peter. He helped her triple her business and considered investing in a new Café Reyes the next town over. For that, she always gave him free drinks and reserved a space for him at the windows so that he could read or people watch to his pleasure.

“Hi,” a warm voice rumbled behind him.

Peter turned and looked up to see the blue-eyed man from the sporting goods store. “Well, hello there.”

“May I join you?”

He marked the page in his book and waved his hand for the other man to take the seat. “Please.”

“Thanks,” he said, sitting down. He held out his hand. “I’m Chris Argent.”

“Peter Hale.” He shook Chris’s hand, warm and firm, calloused fingertips brushing against Peter’s skin. “Are you new in town?”

Chris grinned. “Does it show? Yeah, about three weeks. I’m still trying to find my way. For a small town, it’s pretty sprawling.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York, by way of Chicago and DC and Paris.”

Peter watched as Chris sipped his drink. “What is it that you do?”

“Defense contractor. We’ve been—“

“Peter! I need help!” Erica called from the doorway to the kitchens. “One of the pipes broke and it’s flooding back here!”

“Excuse me,” Peter said, rushing towards the back of the shop and following Erica into the kitchens. A couple of the staff were trying to block the leaking water with towels and Peter ran to the back of the kitchens to shut off the main water line. “Erica, call Roger and tell him that he owes me a favor and to send his best plumber here as soon as he can; and then go out there and do damage control with your customers. You two, grab mops and help me start bailing water.”

He opened the rear door to the back alley as the two staff grabbed mops and buckets and dust pans, working quickly to try and soak up the inch of water on the floor. The three of them worked quickly and Peter said a silent farewell to his Gucci loafers and his cashmere V-neck sweater. An hour later, they had gotten control of the water damage and Peter walked back into the shop to find Erica working behind the counter.

“Ohmygod, thank you, Peter,” she said, looking at him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

“The plumbers are here and they’re replacing the broken pipes,” Peter said, patting her shoulder.

“How much is that going to cost me?”

Peter smiled. “Like I said, Roger owes me a favor, so it won’t cost you a thing.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a quick hug. “Oh, your friend said that he was sorry but he had to leave. He left you his card, though.”

She handed him a crisp white business card and Peter looked at it. Christopher Argent, CEO, Argent Enterprises. He flipped it to the back and smiled:

_We should grab a couple of beers when you’re not busy._

Peter smiled, tucking the card into his pocket. Erica grinned at him.

“He was a handsome one,” she stated, knowingly. “Asked a lot about you.”

“Oh? And what did you tell him?”

“That you were super rich, super nice, and super hot.”

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head.

***

The life of a dedicated bachelor dictated that Peter needed to, on occasion, go grocery shopping. He had a part-time private chef who came to his home every few days and prepared his meals, leaving him very clear directions for how to defrost and prepare the pre-made dishes in the freezer. Peter had very specific food preferences so he made it a point to stock his fridge and his pantry with his favorites and gave his chef creative freedom in stocking his freezer with gourmet fare.

Peter picked up the eggplant, hefting its weight and density, and held it under a light to check on the deepness of its purple color. He squeezed the body with his hands gently to check its firmness and looked at the skin for any blemishes. The stem top was green instead of brown.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who checks an eggplant with that much attention,” Chris said, standing behind him.

Peter nearly dropped the eggplant, which would’ve been a shame since it was nearly perfect, and he turned, chuckling softly.

“I’m a little obsessed.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” he said, leaning against his grocery cart.

Peter looked down at its contents, raising his eyebrow. Inside was a mix of snack foods, prime cuts of meats, boneless chicken thighs, a few vegetables and fruits, and various odds and ends. He grabbed a plastic bag and tucked the eggplant inside, setting it down inside his own cart gently so it wouldn’t bruise.

“So have you rescued any new businesses from water damage lately?”

“I’m happy to say that my one brush with the water crisis was luckily just the one,” he said, looking Chris over.

Chris didn’t move, letting Peter look his fill, and Peter stepped closer towards him, fully intent on inviting Chris over for dinner. And then after, dessert.

“I have a couple of steaks that—“

“Dad, I was wondering where you disappeared off to!” A young woman called, walking towards them. She was tall and lithe, with dark brown hair and pretty brown eyes. She smiled at Peter, curiously, putting food into Chris’s cart. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Peter said, keeping his smile on his face.

“This is my daughter, Allison,” Chris said, smiling at her. “Ally, this is Peter Hale.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

Peter shook it. “The pleasure is mine.” He gave Chris a friendly nod and put his hand on his cart. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. It was good to see you again, Chris.”

Chris smiled. “Did Erica give you my card?” Peter nodded to him. “Then we should get together one night for drinks.”

“Of course,” he said, congenially. “Nice to meet you, Allison.”

“Bye,” she said, waving her hand.

Peter wheeled his cart expertly through the vegetables section and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.  _Of course_  Chris Argent was married; he was a family man. He wasn’t coming on to Peter; he was new in town and wanted a  _friend_.

Fuck.

And this was why Peter did not try to pick up strangers.

***

Two weeks after the Allison Incident, Peter had done everything to avoid the various places in town where he could potentially bump into Chris. There were a few times when he would spot Chris in the same area, and Peter had gotten very good at making his escape without Chris’s notice. He had no reason to go into the sporting goods store, he sent his private chef out to do the groceries, but Peter missed visiting Café Reyes.

“You’re moping,” Talia said, staring at him from behind her desk.

Peter tucked his hands under his head, staring up at the ceiling of her office. “Your leather sectional is exceptionally comfortable.”

“You do know that I have a lot of work to do, right? I mean, one of us has to keep the company going.”

“Then Father was right to give you the leadership position of Hale Industries.”

Talia sighed, tossing her reading glasses on her desk and leaning back in her chair. “What is it, Peter? You’ve been moping and grumpy for days. Derek said that you crashed at his apartment for two days. He’s worried about your emotional imbalance.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I see that his therapy is helping.”

“Don’t make fun of him. He feels like he has a lot to deal with and talking to Dr Deaton seems to help Derek communicate his feelings to Stiles.”

“I have a feeling that Stiles won’t put up with any of Derek’s…issues.”

“That’s not the point,” she said, kindly. “I’m talking about you. What’s been going on with you?”

Peter sighed. “’For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been.’”  ******

“Okay…”

He turned and looked at her. “I met someone, but of course he’s married and has a family.”

“Mmmm…I’m sorry, Peter.”

He gave her a smile and turned to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m sure I’ll get over myself in another week or so, if everyone would just be patient with me.”

“Take all the time you need, little brother,” she murmured, slipping her reading glasses back on, turning to her paperwork. “Why don’t you visit the club for a few hours?”

“That is a very good idea.”  _Consolation prize._

“And then you should come and stay at the house for a few days; the kids would love to have you there.”

Peter considered it, letting out a soft ‘hmmm’ of acknowledgement.

***

It was a little after ten in the evening when Peter made his way to the club. The doorman greeted him with a polite nod and opened the door for him.

“Good evening, Mr Hale, it’s good to see you again,” the club’s host, Roger, said, shaking Peter’s hand. “Were you pleased with the plumbers and their work at Café Reyes?”

“Yes, thank you, Roger. It looks like I owe you one, now.”

Roger smiled, but shook his head. “I was happy to be of service.”

He opened the door to the club room and walked with Peter towards the bar. “So, is there anything in particular that I can help you with this evening?”

“Actually, I think I’m just going to have a glass of your best bourbon and just take it easy,” he said, looking around the club room.

There were several men already in the club, soft conversation and easy laughter filling the room. Peter inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of expensive cigars in his nose. This really was one of the last places in the world where ‘old boys club’ clung to very old world values…mixed in with sex, of course.

Roger nodded, motioning to one of the wait staff as Peter sat down in a leather armchair, sinking against the lush cushions and feeling the tension drain from his shoulders. “Brett will be your server this evening.”

“Thank you, Roger.”

Brett was a young man with short blond hair and hazel eyes. He was dressed in the simple uniform of the club – white shirt, black slacks, and black bowtie – and he gave Peter a smile, waiting for his order.

“A glass of Blanton’s Gold Edition Bourbon, on the rocks, please. Thank you, Brett.”

“Of course, Mr Hale.”

Peter tucked his chin against the palm of his hand, looking at the other club members, who were watching him as well. It was clear that Peter was giving out “do not approach” vibes from the looks on their faces; but he wasn’t interested anyway, they were so dull and unappealing with Chris Argent still fresh on his mind. He didn’t even know why he was so obsessed with Chris; they had shared all of three very brief conversations and were mere acquaintances. There wasn’t much to base even a fantasy relationship on; a missed opportunity.

Truman Capote’s unfinished novel explored the idea that answered prayers caused more pain than an unanswered one.

Peter was somewhere in between.

Brett returned promptly and placed Peter’s drink on the side table. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Peter didn’t miss the innuendo in Brett’s politely worded phrase; and certainly Peter would’ve taken what was on offer at any other time. The club staff weren’t off limits if it was consensual and Peter had fond memories of enthusiastic young men bouncing on his cock in one of the back rooms. 

“Thank you, Brett, but I’m just going to have a drink tonight.”

Brett, ever the professional, merely smiled and made his way through the room.

Peter picked up the heavy crystal glass and took a sip of the bourbon, tasting the fruity dark berries with a hint of herbs and spice. It was a beautiful balance and texture, the burn of it hitting the back of his throat in a slow wave.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you would order the one bourbon that isn’t even imported into the US.”

Peter froze, the edge of the glass against his lip.

“You are a very difficult man, Peter Hale.”

Peter turned to see Chris sitting in the armchair next to him. He set his glass down before he spilled it on himself. “I didn’t know you were a member of the club.”

Chris chuckled, low and deep. He leaned closer to Peter. “This is not the first time that I’ve been a member of an establishment like this. Though to be honest, this is one of the classiest places I’ve been in. Sometimes, I just like to get in, get dirty, and get out.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “I thought you’re married.”

“I am,” he said, smiling.

“She must be a very understanding wife to let you partake in these types of establishments.”

“She paid for my membership,” Chris whispered against his ear.

Peter shivered when he felt Chris’s teeth nip his earlobe. “That’s very…generous of her.”

“Shut up and follow me to the back room.”

His first reaction was to laugh in Chris’s face.  _No one_  approached Peter like he was a cheap whore. But the dark look on Chris’s face – the way his eyes were dilated, the musk of his after shave, and the look of sheer want – made Peter swallow his pride and pick up his glass to throw back his drink.

Chris was already on his feet and moving across the room, predatory grace and long legs. Peter got to his feet and followed. The back rooms were small, private rooms for, well, _explicit_ conversations. The doors didn’t lock, but a closed door meant that it was taken. The room at the end of the hall had its door open and Peter stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“So this isn’t your first visit to the back—“

Chris kissed him, hands curled around Peter’s face. Thumbs stroked his cheeks gently and Peter melted into the touch. He fell back against the door, shoulders taking the brunt of their combined weight, making him gasp. Chris moaned, tongue slipping into Peter’s mouth, tasting him, teeth aggressively nipping his bottom lip.

“Fuck, you taste good,” Chris said, against his mouth, hands moving down Peter’s chest, deft fingers rubbing teasingly over his nipples. Peter groaned, hands gripping Chris’s hips as the older man licked and kissed his neck, drawing out more sounds from Peter.

“Shit—“

Chris dropped to his knees, looking up at Peter as his hands found the closures of Peter’s dress pants, undoing him expertly and then jerking down his briefs. Peter panted roughly as Chris took his cock into his wet mouth, bobbing his head and sucking him quickly, blue eyes nearly black as he looked up at Peter.

He knew that Chris didn’t intend to let Peter catch his breath. He knew that Chris wanted Peter to come, come fast and hard, and Peter sank his hands on Chris’s shoulders, bending forward to thrust his cock into Chris’s willing mouth, tongue tracing around the head, cheeks dented in from the hard suction.

“God, Chris…yes, fuck,  _please_.”

Chris moaned, his hands clenched around Peter’s ass, pulling him in faster, and Peter shook, feeling Chris sucking the come out of him, swallowing him down, not giving him up. Peter howled out his pleasure, looking down to meet Chris’s steady gaze.

“Fuck…” Peter breathed out, arms shaking.

Chris chuckled and pushed Peter back against the door, pressing against him and holding him up.

“Come home with me.”

“Isn’t your wife home?”

“She’s waiting for us,” Chris said, kissing Peter’s neck.

Peter pushed Chris back, his hand on Chris’s chest. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“Victoria – my wife – has erotic tastes.” Chris kissed him, just a soft brush of his lips against Peter’s mouth. “She likes to watch, it gets her hot, it gets her off.”

“She likes to watch.”

Chris laughed. “And she’s very bossy. But yes, she likes to watch me with men. It’s our kink. It works for us.”

“This is all very…”

“Hot?”

“Yes, well, certainly that.” Peter laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s just say that it’s unfamiliar territory.”

“We don’t often get a chance to play like this,” Chris said, smiling beguiling at Peter. He stroked his fingers across Peter’s mouth, tracing down his cheek and his jawline. “But I thought that you might be game.” He grabbed Peter’s chin, tilting his face so that he met Peter’s eyes. “I think she’s going to really like you.”

Peter reached down between them and palmed Chris’s hard cock under his jeans. He was hot and firm and twitching under Peter’s touch. Chris whimpered, his eyes closing as he pressed against Peter’s hand.

“Don’t tease me, I’m not allowed to come yet.”

Peter closed his eyes and smiled, feeling Chris trembling against him. This was going to be a very easy decision.

“What are the rules?”

“She bosses us around; we fuck; and then I get her off with my mouth.”

Peter found that extremely interesting. Maybe Victoria would be amenable to the idea of sharing Chris at the same time.

“And do I get to fuck you?”

“God, I fucking hope so,” he said, chuckling. He reached down and curled his hands over the slope of Peter’s bared ass. “But I want inside you, too.”

Peter licked his lips and smiled. “Well, then, I can’t think of a single reason to refuse your invitation home.”

THE END. 

 ****** Quote attributed to John Greenleaf Wittier,  _Maud Muller_

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for such a great prompt! I hope you enjoy this offering. 


End file.
